Competing for the Cup by Bobbi JG Weiss

Competing for the Cup by Bobbi JG Weiss

Author:Bobbi JG Weiss [Weiss, Bobbi JG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-5362-0185-7
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2018-03-22T04:00:00+00:00


Sally Warrington’s English students sat around waiting for their teacher to arrive. Kit’s desk was behind Nav’s, so they automatically began a conversation. “I saw your horse in the pasture this morning,” Nav said. “He was fleeing from a duck. He’s quite the challenge to tame.”

Kit screwed up her face. She hated to hear about TK’s weirdness, especially now that she was to compete in the House Cup. But she tried to convince herself that knowing these things was at least better than not knowing them. Still — TK ran away from a duck? “I can barely tame his mane,” she said. “He looks like he’s had an electric shock half the time.”

“Wet his mane,” Nav suggested. “Put in some tiny braids once or twice a week. It’ll get retrained.”

“Ooh, thanks! I wish all his other issues were that easy to fix.”

Nav turned more in his chair so that he could better face Kit. “Try me.”

“I think he’s scared of red. The color. Every time I try to walk him even near the red-striped poles in the ring, he freaks.” Kit paused and glanced to her right. Will, sitting several rows away, was looking at her. He quickly looked away, and she resumed talking to Nav. “Plus he tried to eat Anya’s red sweater, and once he pooped in a red flower bed and —”

Nav stopped her there. “That is quite a solid collection of evidence.”

“I have to convince him not to hate on red, or he’ll never jump!” Kit went on. And I’d better hope there are no ducks in the ring during the cup, either, or I’ll have a double freak-out on my hands, she thought.

Kit’s worries slid sideways, however, when Nav said, “I’m sorry to inform you, but horses are not able to see red.”

“What? C’mon!” If it wasn’t the color red, then what was TK’s problem? Sweaters, flower beds, and ducks?

Sally entered the classroom, her arms full of reference books. Kit caught the title of one of them: Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century Literature: A Critical Analysis. She steeled herself for a dull class hour.

It wasn’t that she disliked literature; it was just that she found it hard to relate to the Brontës. They were a famous trio of nineteenth-century sisters who wrote the kind of romances that the BBC always turned into long, lavish TV series. Kit read some of the notes Sally had already written on the blackboard: Why did the Brontë sisters use pseudonyms when they published their work? Which Brontë sister wrote Jane Eyre? Which Brontë sister wrote Wuthering Heights?

All Kit wanted to know was how women in those days could breathe while wearing fourteen layers of petticoats. She was so happy she lived in a time that didn’t involve corsets.

“All right,” said Sally, “in your seats, everyone! We have a lot to cover today!” She set down her books. “Katherine Bridges? May I speak to you for a moment?”

Surprised, Kit went up to the front desk.

“I understand it’s a very important day for you,” Sally said quietly.



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